


maybe you were the ocean

by jimkrk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ANYWAY HERE COME THE TAGS, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post-Break Up, Time Travel, also i was listening to the neighborhood while writing this u know the feeling, don't get your hopes up yall, harry is sad and louis is very much looking forward to their future, i haven't written in forever i am so r ry, sort of, theres no doing the pow wow in this fic, you should all buy Wiped Out! on itunes, zarry friendship because thats what i live for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimkrk/pseuds/jimkrk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is stupid.”<br/>“No, it’s not. I promise.” And Harry doesn’t believe in promises. “Just do it.”<br/>This time, Harry does roll his eyes and silently curses Niall, but curls his hand into a fist and brings it down to the table twice before closing his eyes. His mind is like a broken record.<br/>Louis. Louis. Louis. </p><p>or the AU where Harry makes a wish and relives the last good day he had with Louis</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe you were the ocean

Harry strips out of his clothes in the bathroom, wincing at the cool air that makes goose bumps rise on his skin, and he tries not to look at himself too much in the mirror.  
Green eyes washed out by everything that they’ve been through. Pale skin, milky and translucent beneath the harsh light shining down from above him. He looks sick, honestly, he looks worn out and he’ll admit it.  
Doesn’t really know what else there is to do but admit it. He steps into the shower, the cold water shocking his system, waking him up.

When he faces the mirror for the second time that day, he’s wearing sweats and a rather large pullover. The mirror is still fogged up. He pulls the sleeve of his jumper down so it covers his hand, and swipes it across the wet surface. It smudges and he can only vaguely make out his head, his wet hair sticking to its’ sides. Wet patches form on his jumper wherever his hair reaches his shoulders, but it’ll dry eventually. He’s patient. Always patient. Always thinking about something else and inhaling and exhaling and waiting patiently. Or maybe it’s not patience – maybe it’s indifference. Or numbness.  
Harry thinks he might be getting to that point. 

Zayn smiles at him with sad eyes when he sits down in front of him.  
“You okay?” He asks and when Harry shakes his head no, Zayn just takes it because he hasn’t gotten a different answer in two years.  
They sit in silence, Zayn’s gaze fixed on the clock to his left while Harry stares at a dark spot on the wooden table. His stomach twists at the thought of how it got there. Louis had knocked over an open bottle of wine in an irrational fit of rage during one of their arguments and it’s red contents had spilled all over the brown wood, tinting it darker. It had run down the sides of the table and formed a puddle on the floor.  
Harry follows the dark lines with his gaze, his fingertips ghosting over them as if they’d disappear if he pressed his fingers down too hard.  
Zayn snaps him out of his trance by knocking his fist on the table twice. Harry raises his eyebrows questioningly.  
“It’s 11:11, ya gotta knock on wood twice and then make a wish.”  
“Where’d you pick that shit up?” Harry asks, hardly refraining from rolling his eyes at his best friend.  
“Niall told me.” Zayn pauses. “Give it a try.”  
“This is stupid.”  
“No, it’s not. I promise.” And Harry doesn’t believe in promises. “Just do it.”  
This time, Harry does roll his eyes and silently curses Niall, but curls his hand into a fist and brings it down to the table twice before closing his eyes. His mind is like a broken record.  
Louis. Louis. Louis. 

Harry wakes up the next time with his face pressed to a window in the inside of a car, the smell of it familiar. He opens his eyes, rubbing at them with the back of his hand.  
“We’re almost there.” A voice says and Harry stills. He’d recognize this voice everywhere. The same voice that told him to never come back, the same voice that Harry still loved so much.  
Louis’ voice that he hasn’t heard in two years.  
“Where?” Harry asks, dumbfounded.  
“The beach.” Louis answers, smiling softly.  
Harry wants to ask, what are you doing here why are you talking to me, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows he should be freaked out, but he’s not. A sudden calm settles over his body, as he realises where he is or, when he is.  
Two years earlier, they’d taken a trip to a beach in the Netherlands. They had shared their last day without a fight there. And this was what he had wished for when Zayn had told him to.  
He’d wished for Louis and if it meant to relive their last good day, Harry was okay with it.  
Harry would put himself through this day, remembering the promises they had made to each other.  
He’d promise Louis forever once more.

They drive through the sleepy town, following the signs to the beach. Louis doesn’t say much, and Harry doesn’t either, looking out the window, watching the landscape roll by. He places his hand on Louis’ thigh at some point and Louis takes his own off the wheel to cover it. The window is cool against Harry’s cheek, and he imagines the glass like a camera, the trees and grass scrolling along, his eyes the shutter, remembering all of it, tucking it away with the millions of other little memories he had collected over the past eight months.  
The real camera is idle at his feet, its old beige case bumping his ankle every so often.  
The road narrows and forks, curving around either side of the small bay. Where trees once lined the road opens up into a plain that slopes down to the beach, the wind rattling through the tall, weedy, grass and the short scrubby bushes. Louis makes Harry choose a direction, but it doesn’t really matter. There are no other cars. The tires crunch when Louis turns it into the little parking area, cutting the engine and rubbing his hands. He looks at Harry, but Harry is trying to see over the rocks in front of them.  
Louis opens the door and steps out, pulling his boots with him. He sits against the truck and tugs his Vans off, nudging his feet into the boots, listening to the rustle of Harry grabbing his coat from the back seat and shifting it on.  
Harry shuts the car heavy truck door once he buttoned his coat and jogs up to the edge of the little carved out space for parking. He steps up, climbing up the rock face in front of him, and then jumps down, facing the beach. Beyond that, a winding trail through the grass led to the water crashing on the sand. Harry stands for a moment, fingers splaying and curling against his palms, watching the waves as they slide in and out, gulls screaming overhead, their shrill voices carrying on the wind. They dive at the sea, silhouettes muddied by the overcast sky, while the wind slices through Harry’s hair, making his cheeks rosy. After a few more seconds of watching the surf, leaps back down to the loose gravel, wandering to the truck. He picks up the blanket they’d brought and holds it against his chest before jogging back to the point, squeezing between the boulders, eager to look over the bay again.  
The grey water crashes, and Harry finds himself smiling despite the wet chill threatening to sneak under his jacket. He hears the scuff of a shoe against the rocks and turns to see Louis slipping around the side, squinting in the breeze, looking out at the swells with a subdued sort of happiness. He walks a few steps ‘til he’s standing next to Harry, and his lips curl up, cutting into the side of his mouth in the crooked way Harry loves best.  
“So?” he says, and Louis hears the wind roar on his ears and he moves his eyes from Harry back to the Pacific. The bright checks of his mackinaw coat make him look like a giant red poppy among the bleak rocks and sandy colored landscape, the polaroid camera cradled in its case under one arm.  
“We always went to the coast when we were kids,” Louis answers truthfully. “But that was during the summer.”  
Harry scoffs, putting his free arm around Louis, taking in the bare beach, devoid of any other people.  
“Well, you’re all grown up now, so I figured you needed a new experience,” Harry tells him, free to take his hand. Louis lets himself be lead down the slope towards the water, his own boots filling the shallow prints Harry leaves behind.  
“Everything with you is a new experience,” Louis continues quietly, blushing, once they had finally gotten to the flat of the sand, squeezing Harry’s fingers reflexively as he trips over a rock. The seabirds circle above, watching them, ducking their heads, beaks opening up in harsh calls.  
“Like I told you!” Louis smiles. “All to ourselves!” Harry looks around the deserted sand and sees that it was true – not a soul except for the two of them. It’s quiet except for the methodical rush of the waves and the cries of the gulls. The sun peaks through the overcast clouds and speckles the water with light before slowly folding itself up again. Harry drops the blanket and lets go of Louis’ hand, wandering towards the pull of the water without a word. He can feel Louis watching him as he zigzags over the sand, stopping to pick up a shell and then tossing it back to the sea, his hair blowing as he approaches the dark waves. Louis doesn’t follow, letting him get to the edge, staring at the threshold of the beach where the water caps and crashes, and then glides up to the toes of his shoes. He turns back to Louis, eyes wide and Louis smiles, taking a step to him.  
“There’s a crab!” Harry says, pointing, and Louis comes up to him, watching the little creature walk its charming sideways walk back into the water, bobbing with the shallow swirls that pound relentlessly on the shore. Louis watches it, enraptured, and Harry gently slips again into the realization that there was no one else. The empty beach echoes his thoughts, and Louis looks up at him, tugging the sleeves of his sweater past the sleeves of his jacket, his fingers starting to get stiff from the constant gale coming off the water.  
Louis doesn’t say anything as he studies Harry’s face – he merely looks back out at the water, turning his head to gaze off at the western corner of the sky. “A boat!” he comments, raising his arm, his finger following it as the vessel sailed slowly across the bay. Harry presses closer to him, chuckling when Louis abandons his pointing to wave at it. There’s no response, but Louis waves anyway, and Harry, after a moment, does too.  
When they aren’t acknowledged they let their arms drop, fingers brushing against each other’s hands before tangling.  
“That’d be nice,” Louis speaks. “To sail. You know? Just out on the water like that,” he gestures at the waves. “Nobody to tell you how to be or where to go.”  
“By yourself?” Harry continues, pulling on Louis’ hand, putting his other in his pocket, leading him along the water, watching the waves come in and out, always just close enough to his shoes, but never touching. Louis shrugs. The blanket and camera are a little dark dot up the slope, one corner of the blanket flapping in the wind like a little blue flag.  
“Well, with you, of course,” he amends, flashing Harry a grin and Harry laughs lightly, leaning his head back to look at the birds swooping from the rocks. “I mean it!” Louis teases. “You and me. We could get a boat – one of those nice ones, you know, a house boat or something! We could just sail around the world. That’d be nice. You could kiss me in international waters.”  
Harry smirks at him.  
“I’m sure I could do more than that-!”  
He’s silenced as Louis punches him gently in the arm.  
“Don’t ruin it!” Louis growls, playfully, and Harry let go of his hand just long enough to sling his arm around his shoulders, roughly bringing Louis’ head to his, kissing his hair firmly, and then the side of his face, Louis staggering along. Louis put a hand against Harry’s side, attempting to pry himself off, but Harry is strong and he knows Louis didn’t want to get away. Not really. He kisses him again, right at the corner of his eye.  
“You’re just so poetic,” he sighs against Louis’ ear, teasing, and Louis knocks his ribs with his forearm. Harry earns a laugh, though.  
“You’re just jealous because I have great ideas.”  
“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, letting his arm relax over Louis’ back, still holding him pinned to his side. Louis lays his head on Harry’s shoulder, leaning into him, his fighting hand sliding around Harry’s waist, settling above his hip. “That is a pretty good idea,” Harry adds, “but where would we go when we got tired of it? Not back here.”  
Louis hums, falling into perfect step with him.  
“I don’t know,” Louis trails, looking at the choppy water. “When I become a doctor I’ll make twice as much as you do and buy an island.”  
“A whole island?” Harry marvels, and Louis squeezes him, cheek nuzzling into the warmth of his coat and his body.  
“A whole island, just for us,” Louis promises, “for when we get tired of seeing the world, or when we run out of records to play, or when we’re old. Then we’ll just go to our island. It’ll have a cabin with a huge veranda and we’ll sit on it and complain.”  
“Why complain?” Harry laughs, and Louis stares dreamily past him, fixated on the ocean.  
“Because that’s what old people do!” he explains. “I guess if you’re with someone you really love you don’t complain as much, though."  
"I don't know," Harry hums softly, moving to stand in front of Louis, bending to gently kiss him. "I'm sure that I could find things to complain about."  
Louis laughs softly and pulls Harry's mackinaw open, sliding his arms into the warmth of the coat and wrapping around Harry's body, resting his head against his chest. Harry wraps his arms around Louis, pulling him against himself, and Louis buries his face into the crook of his neck.  
"We'd get a house built, a nice two-story house with plenty of room. And it'll have a white picket fence."  
"All of this on an island?" Harry laughs and Louis can feel it rumble through his chest, and he settles his hands on the small of Harry's back.  
"It'll be a pretty big island." He pauses briefly, fingers slipping beneath the hem of Harry's shirt, and he can feel Harry shudder as his cold fingers rested against his warm skin.  
Louis pulls back slightly, fingers slipping over Harry's skin beneath his shirt as he looks up at him.  
Harry smiles and leans forward to capture his lips, arms tightening around him for a moment before he pulls one away to card his fingers through Louis' hair. Louis pulls his arms out of Harry's mackinaw to wrap them around his neck, his fingers gently scratching through the curly hairs at the base of his neck.  
Harry pulls back and Louis continues to kiss him, at the corner of his mouth and along his jaw, before he pulls back, smoothing his fingers through Harry's hair; pulling it away from his face.  
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."  
Harry can feel his cheeks heat up, and instead of saying anything else, he kisses Louis like a man dying for air, taking everything that he could in that one short moment. Louis’ arm pulls him closer against his chest, and he smiles against his lips as he slipped his fingers from his hair to rest against the small of his back, his fingers bunching up the back of Louis' jacket.  
"That's a long time." Harry smiles wryly and lets his fingers trail over Louis’ cheek. "Are you sure you want to spend all that time with me?"  
"I'd give up everything to spend the rest of my life with you." There is laughter in Louis’ voice, and Harry's smile fades slightly, but if Louis notices, he doesn’t say anything. He pecks Louis’ lips as he slides his hands down the front of his coat.  
"You're serious, huh?"  
"Dead serious."  
He can’t even think straight, can’t even form words that don’t sound something like Louis’ name. Harry swallows and focuses on Louis, the lines of his face softened by the warm, golden light of the setting sun.  
“I just love you so much, Louis,” he says.  
“Harry –“ Louis starts, his thumb brushing over Harry’s bottom lip.  
“I love you,” Harry says again, because it feels right.  
Louis is just looking at him now, waiting, his thumb stills but it’s ghosting over his bottom lip, and Harry doesn’t understand. “Tell me you won’t leave me.”  
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, because he still doesn’t understand.  
“I’m a bit scared,” Louis says, and then he’s pulling his thumb away and puts his own lips there instead, moving in a way that makes Harry see stars. His small hands are pulling Harry closer by the neck and tugging at the few lose curls that he couldn’t fit into the tiny bun on top of his head.  
“Lou,” Harry groans suddenly, mouth opening up.  
Louis’ hands are rough on either side of Harry’s face and Harry lets his eyes fall shut as he kisses back, open-mouthed and hungry, his whole body buzzing with love and desire.  
Louis kisses slow and he’s shaking, from the cutting wind or something else, he’s not sure.  
“Just tell me you won’t leave,” Louis says, breaking away.  
Harry opens his eyes, swallowing dizzily when he notices the swollen pinkness of Louis’ mouth and he doesn’t answer because he can’t promise him anything. He doesn’t want to break promises, so it’s better not to make any. He loves Louis, but he lives in constant state of uncertainness.  
Louis kisses him again, sudden and searching, but then he pulls back, his blue eyes flickering over the green of Harry’s, “tell me you wouldn’t leave me if you had the chance.”  
“I wouldn’t.” He answers before he thinks better of it.  
It’s worth the smile that forms on Louis’ lips, though. He presses their mouths together once more, roughly this time, breathing in through his nose like it’s the only way he knows how. His whole body is on fire and he doesn’t understand how he ever went to sleep without kissing Louis first.  
“Promise?”  
Like drowning, he thinks. This is like drowning. There are a few, terrible pings of silence, carried on by a soft wisp of cold air and wavering sun.  
It hurts, it fucking hurts and Harry’s insides are twisting with guilt.  
Louis’ grip tightens on him and his smile slides from his face with a sickening squelch that Harry swears he hears.  
It hurts worse then.  
“I promise.”  
He knows he’s soon going to break this promise and he knows he’ll break Louis and himself right along with it.

Louis kisses him again before Harry pulls back, laughing softly as he moves up the slope of the beach to where he had abandoned the video camera on the blanket, Louis right behind him. He pulls it out of its case and opens it..  
"Just imagine though," he spoke as he fiddled with the camera, turning it on and pointing it directly at Louis. "An island all to ourselves, our own yard. We could grow old together."  
"And become bickering old men,” Louis laughs softly, shying away from the camera, but Harry keeps it trained on him, watching him through the viewfinder.  
"It'd be nice."  
Louis keeps shying from the camera before he grabs it and pulls it away from Harry, turning it on him. Harry frowns and pulls his jacket tighter around him, turning away to look toward the sea. The wind blows his hair away from his face, and he has to squint against it. The breeze makes his nose and cheeks rosy, and Louis steps closer to him.  
Harry turns his attention from the sea to Louis, smiling as he walks toward him, pushing the camera from his face to kiss him before turning away, walking toward the shoreline. Louis brings the camera back up, following him.  
"We could see the world on a boat," Harry turns around, slowly, carefully, walking backwards as he speaks to Louis. "Just imagine all the places that we could go on a boat!" He throws his arms into the air, a grin spreading across his face, and Louis laughs behind the camera.  
"I've always wanted to travel. Just could never find the time," Louis admits as he follows Harry across the beach with his camera, careful not to trip on the sand. Harry stops and shoves his hands into his pockets.  
"I love you, y'know. I love you so much, Louis."  
Harry can see Louis grin behind the camera, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets and walks toward him, grabbing Louis’ face in his hands to kiss him. When he pulls back, he sees that Louis had pulled the camera away and had it trained on them, recording the entire thing. He should have known that Louis would do something like that.  
"I love you too." Louis kisses the tip of his nose, his lips warm against his cool skin, and Harry presses his face into Louis neck. He hears Louis cut the camera off as an arm snaked its way around him, and he ran his hand over the front of Louis’ coat, the material soft beneath his palm.  
"We should get a house one day, though. I don't want to live in an apartment forever."  
"It's cheaper than a house." Louis shrugs, and Harry slips his hand into Louis’ coat, fingers resting against his chest.  
"Yeah, well, I'll make enough money for the both of us, and then we can get our own house. Maybe a house away from everyone so that we don't have to deal with people."  
"You trying to turn us into recluses?" Louis laughs, hand moving up to gently tug at Harry's hair, and Harry pinches him through his shirt, laughing when Louis curses.  
"You know what I mean. I just don't want either of us to get hurt."  
"Harry, I'm not going to let anyone hurt us." Harry pulls away to look down at Louis’ face. He’s serious, his blue eyes hard and his jaw set. Louis’ hand drifts through his hair, trails over his cheek, and he smiles softly. "I won't let anyone hurt you."  
_I’m going to end up hurting you, no matter what, ___Harry thinks and shakes his head curtly, getting rid of the thought. "I know you won't," Harry smiles and kisses him before pulling away, taking a few steps away from him. "I forgot my polaroid camera in the truck, I’ll be right back!"  
Harry waves once before he jogs across the beach, clambering over the rocks to get to the truck. He pulls the door open, reaches in, and grabs his camera, slamming the truck door behind him, the metal loud in the silence. He makes his way back to the beach, pulling the neck strap over his head to let it dangle against his chest, and he notices that Louis has the video camera up, pointing directly at him. He smiles and lifts his own camera, pausing to look through the viewfinder to snap a picture of Louis in the distance. The camera whirs and clicks, and Harry pulls the picture from it, dropping the camera against his chest.  
He pulls the front off of it when he reaches Louis, looking up into the camera as if he was looking directly at Louis’ face, pulling the picture up in front of it to show him.  
"This one's nice!"  
Harry pushes it into his pocket, careful not to bend the corners, and he walks down the beach, turning around every now and then to make sure that Louis was following him. It’s hard to hear his footsteps over the crash of the waves against the shoreline, but he can feel that he’s there.  
He snaps a few pictures of the water, pausing to look at the pictures before nodding to himself and putting them in his pocket. He takes pictures of the tall grass near the rocks, depositing those pictures into his pocket as well. Mostly he takes pictures of Louis behind the camera, Louis with the camera, just anything of Louis. Finally, though, his camera runs out of film and he’s left with a pocket full of pictures and an empty camera dangling around his neck.  
The sky is getting dark. The wind picks up and it’s colder than before. Harry pulls his jacket closer to him and Louis turns the camera off, moving toward Harry to curl his arm around his waist, pulling him against his side and kissing his hair.  
"You ready to go back?"  
Louis nods and lets Harry lead him back up the truck, stopping to pick the blanket up off of the beach where they had left it.

The drive back is quiet, Louis tired from the cold. He lets his head rest on Harry's shoulder, and Harry keeps his arm around his shoulders as he drifts off to Novo Amor quietly playing from the radio.  
He’s stirred awake a while later, Harry gently shaking him and pulling him away, carding his fingers through his hair.  
"C'mon, let's get inside and get you to bed."  
Louis smiles and crawls out of the cab of the truck, slowly following Harry to their room. It’s warm and welcoming, and he pulls his pictures out of his pocket and sets them onto the spare bed where their bags are laying; he knows it’s going to be unused. He sheds his jacket and sits down as he rubs at his eyes with one hand.  
Harry sits on the opposite bed across from him, his coat gone and his shoes off. Louis kicks his boots off and Harry holds his arms out to him, Louis crawls onto his lap and wraps his arms around Harry's neck, closing his eyes.  
"You have fun today?"  
Louis nods and tucks himself closer to Harry.  
"You got lots of good pictures."  
“True that.”  
"We'll go back in the morning, how about that?" And Harry knows they won’t be going back in the morning.  
Louis nods and crawls off of Harry's lap to sit beside him, grabbing the hem of his sweater to pull it over his head. Harry does the same and then shed his pants, helping Louis get out of his own when he gives up on undoing the button, too tired to mess with it anymore. Harry laughs softly and pulls the blankets over them as he situates himself in front of Louis, head down on his arm, Louis pressing his face into his hair. Harry presses back against him, humming softly.  
Louis splays his fingers over his stomach, and Harry brings his hand down to rest over Louis, and Harry breathes a laugh.  
"What's so funny?" Louis mumbles, his words a little slurred.  
"Nothing. Just go to sleep, baby."  
Harry’s eyes fall shut and he drifts off a few moments later, Louis’ breath hot and wet on his neck.

He wakes up again and he’s hurting. He’s cold and alone and his whole body is shaking. Memories of their trip to the beach freshly burned into his head. Louis is gone again and he’s not coming back. 

Harry learned it the hard way to never promise anyone forever again.


End file.
